R.I.P Little Man

Today, my sweet little man went to sleep forever. He was a good boy, the best any dog lover could ask for. In fact, he was the best friend you could ask for. One of things I always loved about Cain was the fact that he quirky. He made strange faces and did strange things.

Every night, he'd straddle his dad and sit there comfortably for long periods of time. They were not just father and son; they were kindred spirits. Despite being two unfixed boxers in one house, they never fought. They ate together. Slept together. Even went to the bathroom together. Everything they did was in synch.

Although I love them equally, Cain was my baby. As a puppy, he slept on my chest, even when I was pregnant with daughter one. There was nothing I wouldn't do for little man. I held him close to my heart. And he did the same. When I was sick, he would lay in the bathroom next to me. When I was upset, he'd sit at my feet and watch me to make sure I was ok. He loved me unconditionally and was there through thick and thin.

He was my protector. I knew without a doubt that no harm would ever come to myself or my children as long as he were around. He didn't mess around when it came to strangers. But he had plenty of patience and tolerance when it came to the kids. They could pull him, poke him, prod him and ride him. Yet it didn't faze him in the least. He was a saint.

And when he was mischevious, I let that fly too. So what if he pulled a cooked pot roast off the counter and started devouring five minutes before supper? He was Cain -- that's what he did. Even when he got into the cookie dough, it was okay. Because it was Cain.  

When Cain was diagnosed with cancer last month, I was heartbroken. I had never experienced such pain and shock in my life. I decided that I would do what it took to keep him alive if it meant maxing out every credit card. And that's just what I started to do.